“I don’t need that. I need the four of you to trust me, to treat me like a human being. Be my armor against the rest of the club. Let me thrive like a fern beneath the shadows of the trees.” I walk away from Crown, my boots sinking into the softness of the forest floor. “If it were sunny, the fern wouldn’t do well. Under the trees, it thrives. Its function in the world is different, but it’s no less important.” I point at a large, lush fern growing out of a nearby trunk, knowing that I’m going out on a limb here with a ridiculous metaphor. Still, I can’t help it. My life is bathed in metaphors
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